Lost In Paradise
by xxAgentOfChaosxx
Summary: "Did you know that during the Civil War, this house was kept as a hospital for wounded Confederate soldiers?"He looked at me. "Really?" I asked excitedly. "There was even one Union soldier brought to this house." He continued. "A Confederate deserter brought him here to save his life," "Did he live?" I raised my brows and he shook his head. "No." *Luke Hemmings AU*
1. Prologue

Prologue: Paradise Isle

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><p>It was an unseasonably drizzly night in late May, a year ago today, when my house was broken into. My family and I lived in the least safe of the five boroughs in New York City, the Bronx, and had lived there all my life. That night, my mother had been tending to my sick eleven year old brother, Riley, when she heard the window in the living room shatter. My dad took a bat to the intruders and while my mom gathered my brothers and I into our parents' room and called the cops. One of the robbers managed to slide a knife into my father's ribs in between blows and the other put three bullets into his chest cavity. Both escaped with our TV and my father's life before the cops arrived on the scene.<p>

My dad's memorial service was held that following Saturday. We,my mom, brothers and I, moved fourteen days later, a week after school ended. We went to live with my mom's mom in their ancestor's old plantation house on a small island off the coast of Georgia. The island was called Paradise Isle. Cheesy, right? But that's where we were headed, in a crowded, big-ass U-Haul. It took us days to reach our destination, but when we did, we knew our lives would never be the same again.

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><p>AN: So yeah. That's just the prologue. :) Thanks for reading!


	2. I: New Beginning

Chapter one: New Beginning

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><p>The air inside the vehicle was humid and made my dark clothes stick to my skin. My brothers sat in between my mom and I and were being loud and kept hitting each other and me. Every time I told them to stop my mother yelled at me and turned the radio up. I sighed and leaned my sticky forehead against the window, leaving a large spot of grime on the glass. New York was humid like Georgia, but the southern state was much warmer, and Rory hated the heat. Finally, my mother turned left and maneuvered the truck onto a long gravel road.<p>

Trees lined the drive at equal, six-foot intervals. I could lay in between two trees and fit perfectly with my feet planted firmly against one trunk of a tree and my scalp barely touching the other. My mother, on the other hand, would be a foot too short and wouldn't reach either tree. I'd gotten my height from my dad, who was six-foot-six. My mother, who is five-three, gave her height to my older brother, David, who was five -four. David ran away when he was sixteen and I was ten. We never heard from him again.

The house finally came into view as we rounded a giant fountain in the front. It was all white with black shutters around every picture window. It was three stories tall with a chimney stack standing high above every corner of the house. A hedge maze peeked out from the back of the house and a luxurious and colorful garden with every kind of flower, tree and bush that was ever imagined wrapped around the other side. Vines crawled along the four pillars that held up a large balcony. Victorian style lounges sat on the front patio and balcony, most of them a cream or tan color with intricate designs. A group of people, about fifteen or so, stood on the patio, all wearing what looked like their Sunday best and one-hundred watt smiles.

A woman with all white hair stood at the head of the crowd, waving. Riley pointed her out.

"Is that Grandma?" He implored excitedly.

"It sure is," my mom replied. My brow furrowed; I'd seen pictures of my grandmother before, but this woman looked different.

The rest of the group was made up of gardeners, cooks, maids and butlers.

"Why are there so many maids and butlers?" I asked Mom as she put the car in park.

"Why don't you ask your grandma yourself," she replied, and then climbed out of the truck. Casey and Riley followed quickly after her. I hesitated before getting out. I stayed by the truck and watched my mom run up the three steps and onto the patio to envelope my grandma in a hug. She released my mother and then embraced my brothers. They ran into the house through the open door and my grandma turned her gaze on me. I walked tentatively forward, climbed the steps, and wrapped my arms around my grandma.

"Aurora," she breathed. "You've grown so much; last time I saw you, you were a baby." We pulled away but she held onto my hands. She reached up and touched my face gently. "You're so much more beautiful than your pictures," she smiled and I grinned back.

"Grandma Helena,"

She chuckled. "Call me Grandma, Ma, Grams, Granny, anything but Heather,"

"Grandma." I giggled.

"Your mother told me that you asked about the butlers,"

I blushed and cleared my throat as Grandma lowered her arms. "Yeah. I was just wondering why there's so many of them," I gestured to the five men dressed in black and white tuxes.

"We each have one."

"Each?" I implored.

"Yes. Your mother has a butler, Riley and Casey have their own, and you have one, too. Elijah," she pointed to a tall man, who was shorter than me by two inches, and he nodded and stepped forward. His gloved hands were clasped behind his back and his light brown hair was parted and fell across his forehead perfectly. "Elijah is my butler. He's lived here ever since he was ten and his mother had been the head maid." He bowed his head and offered me his hand.

"Elijah Geller,"

"Rory Herrick. It's nice to meet you," I shook his outstretched hand.

"The pleasure is all mine," Elijah smiled at me. He motioned for another butler to come forward. The other, who looked considerably younger than Elijah but still many years my senior, kept his gaze on his shiny shoes and his hands behind his back. His black hair was slicked away from his eyes and his pale skin seemed to glow in the early afternoon sunlight.

"And this is William Johnson. He is your butler." Elijah told me.

William raised his gaze to meet mine. His bright blue eyes took my breath away. "Hi," He gave me a smirk.

"Um..." I mumbled, racking my brain for words to say. "H-hi," I stammered.

"I'm here to serve you; anything you need, I can get it for you."

"Even like," I paused, leaning towards him and lowering my voice. "Illegal things?" I arched an eyebrow at him and he laughed.

"Depends," he copied my facial expression and widened his eyes.

"On what?"

He was about to answer, but Grandma beat him to the chase.

"All righty, then. I'm gonna leave you to get settled, and Elijah, call the movers to unpack their boxes from the truck." Grandma looked at Elijah, who nodded, and she went into the house, followed by her butler. I looked at Will and smiled awkwardly. He returned a comfortable smirk.

"Might I show you to your room?" He offered with a raised brow, and I nodded.

He ushered me through the door and up a staircase on the left wall in the foyer. I didn't get much of a chance to look at the room, but I got the sense of "old Southern money", if you catch my drift. Every piece of furniture was very detailed and extravagant. The drapes looked like they would cost a hundred-thousand dollars alone. The stairs creaked under our combined weight as we ascended together. We reached a landing, turned rights and went up yet another flight of stairs. The air got hotter with each step and I had to wonder if Grandma had put any kind of heating and cooling system into the house.

At last we reached a long hall that connected with the identical staircase on the right wall of the foyer. The hall had seven doors, all spaced evenly among each other. He led me left down the hall and gestured to a door second to the last. I opened the door and was taken aback. The walls were painted a deep rogue and the furniture was all wooden and dark chestnut. A four-poster bed sat in the middle of the room. The bedspread was made of lace and was jet black. The silk sheets were gray and every painting on the wall consisted of some iconic European city, like Venice, Moscow, or Paris. The paintings' frames were all painted black and the carpet was plushy and pure white. A wardrobe loomed high, almost to the ceiling, and looked big enough to store three average sized humans. A roll top desk stood in one corner, turned at an angle. It held an antique red lamp, with small rubies dangling from the shade. The picture windows placed on either side of the bed offered a view of the hedge maze and garden. I wandered over to them and gazed into the backyard. Will trailed into the room but stayed by the door. Heavy black drapes from the windows, and if had to part them for a full view. I stepped back from the windows and faced Will, who arched an eyebrow at me.

"Oh...my...God," I breathed.

Will nodded and came closer. "Yeah, I know. When I first set foot in this house, I was rendered speechless, much like yourself,"

"I'm never gonna be able to get used to this," I chuckled dryly.

"I never did, either," he smirked again and his eyes fell on me. I turned my gaze back to the window.

"You know, if you open the window, you can climb out onto the roof like it's a balcony,"

"Really?" I looked at him, my eyes wide. He just nodded, again, in reply.

"This place is crazy," I whispered.

A knock at the door made us both turn sharply towards the sound. Elijah bowed his head at me and Will tensed when he saw his mentor. His hands flew behind his back and this posture improved.

"Anything else I may help you with?" Will asked me.

"Um, no?" I glanced between him and Elijah.

"The movers are here and have begun to unpack your boxes. I have instructed them to leave your boxes here, outside your room, assuming you labeled all your boxes," Elijah said.

"I did. Thank you," I smiled, and they both left the room. Will stopped in the doorway and winked at me, still smirking, before closing the door behind him. I threw myself onto the bed, which had to be the most comfortable piece of furniture I'd ever sat on, and heaved a sigh. Living here was gonna be so much better than in New York, I kept telling myself. Somehow, I just couldn't believe it.

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><p>After I'd finished unpacking, I set my laptop on my desk and logged into my YouTube account. I watched 'danisnotonfire' and 'amazingphil' videos for about two hours. Around five-thirty, I called for Will and asked him about the dinner situation.<p>

"Well, Mistress Helena doesn't require family dinners unless it's Sunday. Would you like one of the maids to make something for you?"

"Um, sure. How about a tuna sandwich? With chips and water?" I implored uncertainly.

"Of course." He nodded and left, closing the door behind him. I shut my laptop and made my way over to my bed. Ten minutes later, Will came back into my room with a dinner tray and placed it on the bed next to me. I could Elijah's shadow lingering from the doorway.

"Anything else you might need?" Will's eyes widened and he winked at me. I blushed and shook my head.

"No, thank you."

Will nodded once and turned to leave, closing the door behind him. I could hear him and Elijah conversing quietly in the hall. I rose from the bed and tiptoed to the door, pressing my ear to it. Their speech was muffled, and after a few minutes, I heard them walk away. With a sigh, I walked back to my bed and picked at the sandwich until a maid came and took it away.

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><p>I hardly slept that night. Any sleep I did get was restless and light. Tossing and turning until past one, I decided to get up and wander. I threw back the covers, shoved my feet into my new fluffy, white slippers and padded down the hall. I crept down the stairs, stopping when a squeak rang out. I stood still for a few silent moments before continuing on. I came into the pitch dark foyer and stubbed my toe on a couch or chair or something that I couldn't see.<p>

"Shit!" I exclaimed, reaching for my throbbing toe. A door opened in another room off the foyer and I dropped to my knees, covering my mouth with one hand. Someone turned on a light down a hall that I couldn't see, and the light flooded into the foyer. I crawled onto a couch that faced away from the hall and held my breath. I wasn't quite sure why I felt the need to hide, but I did anyway. Footsteps made their way toward me, and suddenly Will was standing above me, smirking.

"You don't have to hide," He folded his arms across his chest. "You live here now."

"I know, but I didn't know if anyone would get mad at me for walking around at night,"

"Yeah, no." He chuckled. "What were you doing anyway?"

"I was exploring…" I trailed off and sat up, holding my hands in my lap.

"Why?"

"'Cause I've never been here before, okay?" I shrugged. "I got curious."

Will smirked again and offered me his hand. "Let's go explore."

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><p>AN: Thanks for reading! Please review! :)


	3. II: Private Robert Hews' Journal

**A/N: It's very important to read chapter titles! :)**

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><p>Chapter two: Private Robert Hews' Journal<p>

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><p><em><strong>April 10, 1862<strong>_

_**They said it was a victory for the Union, but I was there. Both fronts lost thousands of soldiers; it was a victory for none. The Battle of Shiloh lasted for two days and one night with no end until evening April seventh. The battle seemed to last forever and the severest musketry fire I ever heard was present at all times, even when both fronts managed to reload in unison. The water ran crimson with blood, the grass slick with it. The stench of human and horse flesh rotting under the blazing April sun invades my nostrils still. Too many Union and Confederates alike were killed in cold blood on this battlefield.**_

_** My shoulder still bleeds. I had no luck dislodging the Minié ball which does not allow my wound to heal. I have to move at night, for fear of being found behind enemy lines. I pray to God every morn, unable to sleep from the pain. I've written letters to my family, despite the fact that I know the letters will not reach them. I hope they do not miss me, that they do not grieve for me. I look at Anna's picture every day, praying she will forget me before I expire. **_

_** I came across a Grey Back, Private Fletcher Inman. He is a deserter and swears he will not do me any harm, and even though I am already dead, I do not trust him. Private Inman wills me to attend a hospital, but the closest is across the state of Georgia and on an island twenty lengths from the coast. We would not make it there before my death. We advanced, him and me, into Birmingham, Georgia without being seen, but I fear progression. When he pressed forward, I argued, for both our sakes, to stay put. He, stubborn and headstrong, did not listen, and now we are on the outskirts of a miniscule town called Hoover. Private Inman hopes to make it to Pelham by sundown.**_

_** The day is hotter than hell and more humid than the day before. My wool uniform sticks heavily on my skin and my brow drips with sweat. It runs out of my every pore. Private Inman, who has been with me since the eighth of April, does not seem bothered by the heat and humidity. He tells me he was reared in South Carolina, on a slave plantation, and has spent his whole summers in weather such as this. **_

_** It has been three days since I was injured and left on the battlefield to die, and despite the false hope given to me by my new comrade, I am a dead man. But I have stared in the eyes of Death as he rode toward me on his ghostly white horse many times before and I no longer fear death. I welcome it.**_

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><p><em><strong>April 11, 1862<strong>_

_**Private Inman aided me in extracting the ball from my shoulder and wrapping it with a shirt; we took the garment from another deserter we found dead and washed the cloth in the river. We hope it will heal soon, without infection.**_

_** We grow closer together every hour, nearly forgetting our immediate hatred toward the other. I disclosed to him a photograph of Anna, and he told me how lucky I was. He told me his woman was ugly as a dog, but that she could cook well and sings, and he loves her anyway. I hear him crying sometimes while he sleeps, mumbling her name. It makes me wonder if she does the same and it makes me ache for Anna. I joined the United States Army to fight in the name of the Union two years ago, and have not seen her face since. I would forget her physical features if not for the photograph she had given me on our last night together.**_

_** Private Inman and I move ceaselessly during the night, following the stars. He says they will guide us to the island, and we will find the hospital in no time. He is injured too. He limps on his left side. I assume he was born that way, with a lame ankle or foot. He never talks about it and I never implore. As we walk, he saves his chin with a knife, telling me that he cannot stand having facial hair of any sort. My beard has grown and inch form my chin, the last time I shaved was before the Battle of Shiloh. I don't mind it.**_

_** Private Inman has suggested that, since I am behind enemy lines, I cast aside my uniform, and I always refuse to do so. My uniform is part of which I am, the only thing that keeps me warm at night when the temperature drops severely. I will never voluntarily remove it.**_

_** Many instances come during the day when we are awoken by marching squadrons of hundreds of troops, all of them Confederate, and are forced to move as swiftly and silently as we can without being noticed. We hide in nearby bushes or tall grasses until the troops pass, and even wait for minutes afterward, until we know it is clear. He tells me he and two of his fellow soldiers left their regiment together, and he is always keeping a weathered eye out for them. He swears they can and will help us, but I think otherwise.**_

_** I dream of home every day as I sleep and ache to return to my brothers and mother and Anna, but I know I will not. I will perish out here with Private Fletcher Inman, either by the hands of a Grey Back, or by the hands of Fate. Only time will tell.**_

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><p>AN(2): Thanks for reading! Please review :)


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